


A Little Help From My Friends

by mnemosyne23



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, Lost RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, PWP, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom is suffering from sexual starvation, until he gets a call from Emilie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help From My Friends

**Author's Note:**

> In case it's not obvious from the "Real Person **Fiction** " tag, _this did not happen._ The people in this story have never done this, nor do I imply that they will do this at anytime in the future. This is PURELY FICTIONAL, and no harm is intended to the people depicted herein.

"Tomorrow we should try to catch some of the waves at Waimea Bay. I don't have any filming again till Wednesday, so I've got the time." _Slurp!_

"Great, great. Sounds great, Dom." _Fwollop!_

Without question, one of the hardest foods in the world to eat and not look like an idiot was spaghetti. Depending how you tackled the project, you either ended up with tendrils of pasta hanging out of the corners of your mouth like shoelaces, or you suffered the perennial embarrassment of getting a red line of sauce across your nose or down your chin from the whiplash rebound of the slippery noodles. More often than not, when you were tossing clothes in the hamper that night you'd find a fine spray pattern of red sauce on your t-shirt or dress shirt or sport jacket. Then there was the ridiculous sound it made as you were sucking it up into your mouth. _Slurp! Fwollop!_ There was nothing remotely appealing about the sound of a Dustbuster choking on a glass of water. Spaghetti was not a date food. You didn't eat it in front of anybody you wanted to impress.

Hanging out with your best mate, however, was an entirely different story.

Billy had been in town since Christmas, and they'd been spending great googly gobs of time together; which was more than welcome, in Dom's opinion. Elijah had been in town around Christmas as well, through New Years, and the three hobbits (still, after all these years, they were the hobbits) had spent the time catching up on each others lives, congratulating one another on their successes, and playing silly buggers with everyone else. Now it was just Dom and Billy alone again, just like it had been for day after day of shooting in New Zealand. There was a comfort level between the two that exceeded even that which they shared with Elijah and Orli and the rest of the cast. When Dom and Billy were together they didn't have to say much, because each one knew the other one UNDERSTOOD.

Dom had especially welcomed the company while the rest of the _Lost_ cast was out of town for the holidays. He was a naturally social creature, and while he enjoyed spending time alone, it was nice to have people around for Christmas and New Years and those times of year when everyone should be together.

Together and shagging like rabbits, but he left that last bit off. Because Emilie was in Los Angeles this week at the People's Choice Awards, and he was still in Hawaii suffering for his art. Suffering didn't even begin to describe.

Damn Billy for looking so damn fuckable. It was driving him mad.

Dom mentally sighed and put down his fork. "You want some more parmesan, Bills?" he asked, standing up from the little kitchen table, deliberately holding his napkin in front of him.

Billy looked up from his ardent appreciation of the spaghetti on his plate and shook his head. "Mm-mmm," he said, sucking in the last of a strip of spaghetti. "No thanks, Dom, I'm fine."

"You're also a mess, Bills," Dom chuckled, making a gesture to his chin. "You look like you've been sucking on a red Sharpie. Here." He tossed his napkin to Billy.

The Scot caught it in mid air and dabbed at his mouth. "And you look like you've got a cruise liner in your pants," he said with a nod to Dom's crotch, a twinkle in his eye.

Dom refused to blush. He didn't blush in Billy's company, because if he was going to do that, he'd probably end up blushing all the time. "It's a prop from the show," he said nonchalantly, turning around and opening his cupboard to dig around for the parmesan. "Turns out one of the survivor's has been hiding this secret super expandable ship. Just add water. They get found out because they look like they've got an enormous erection."

"Really. And that's unusual, is it?"

"When it's Evangeline, yeah."

Billy snorted and went back to his pasta. " _Someone's feeling horny…_ " he sing-songed.

Dom chuckled. "Well, Bill, I'm not one for self-proclamation like that, but if you're feeling that way, I've got some porn under the mattress in my room. It oughta help take the edge off."

Billy laughed around his mouthful and Dom grinned at him over his shoulder.

Just then the phone rang in the living room. "Gimme a sec, Bill," Dom said, jogging through the kitchen into the living room. Diving over the back of the couch, he landed with a bounce on the cushions and grabbed the phone off its cradle. "Hello?"

"Hey, sexy."

The bottom fell out of his stomach and the cruise liner in his pants supersized. "Hey, Emilie," he said in reply, aware that his voice was going raspy, the way it usually did when he was talking to her. "What're you up to?"

"I just got in from the Awards," she said, and he could hear her rustling around on the other end of the line. "Did you watch?"

Bollocks, he'd forgotten. "I TiVOed it, luv," he said, praying he had. "How'd we do?"

"Lost."

"Sorry, was that an answer, or were you just quoting the show at me?"

Emilie laughed and he grinned, picturing her brilliant white smile and the way her eyes would be lighting up. "No, I mean WE lost, Dom," she clarified, obviously still smiling. "But Burky assures me the fans were behind us one hundred percent, so I can't say I'm too disappointed. Besides, there's always the Globes next week."

"Exactly."

"Is Billy still with you?"

"Yep."

"Have you been having fun?"

"You bet."

"Are you scared to talk too loud in case he comes snooping around and spoils your good time?"

"Uh-huh."

She laughed again. "Dominic, we're just _talking_. HELLO, BILLY!"

Dom winced, covering the mouthpiece and scrunching down on the couch, so the back could act as a shield between him and the kitchen. "Shhh!" he hissed quietly into the receiver, his eyes darting over his shoulder to make sure Billy wasn't looming. "Em, please. If he finds out I'm talking to you he'll start giving me a hard time."

"Why would he do that?"

"Reasons."

"Liiiike?"

"Em, please, just drop this?"

"No, you've got me curious now." He could picture her sprawled out on her bed, twining her hair around one finger, giggling into the receiver, eyes shining with mirth. "Did you have a fight?"

"No."

"Did one of you have a bad day?"

"No."

"Come on, Dom!" Emilie laughed, and Dom bit his lip to hold in a groan. "You're driving me crazy! Please tell me? Pleeeeease?"

He rolled his eyes. He was such a pushover. "If I do, what will you do for me?" he asked, nesting down in the cushions and getting comfortable. "And by _what_ I mean sexually."

Emilie laughed again. "Is that it?" she teased. "You're horny and he called you on it?"

"Guessing because of what I told you counts as me telling you. That means you've got to do something for me." Darting his tongue out to lick his lips, Dom couldn't resist a cheeky grin. He hadn't talked to Emilie in a week, but he hadn't forgotten how much he loved her voice: that cute-as-a-button Australian accent that matched so perfectly with her heart-shaped face and twinkling blue eyes. And that SMILE. Emilie had, without a doubt, one of the most brilliant smiles in showbiz. She should have gotten her start in Colgate commercials.

"Okay, cheeky monkey," Emilie teased on the other end of the line. "When you come up here to L.A. next week, I'll make all your pain go away. Does that sound good?"

Another week? Absolutely unacceptable. Besides, he'd be busy with the One Ring Convention and photo shoots and a whole mess of other activities, not to mention spending time with 'Lij, Billy and Sean. Besides, his lotion bottle was going to go on strike pretty soon from nervous exhaustion.

"Why wait?" he murmured huskily. "You got a hot date or something?"

"No," she purred, and he could imagine her rolling onto her belly, feet in the air, hooked coquettishly at the ankles. "I'm all alone."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "What're you wearing?"

"Not much of anything, actually," she chirped innocently, and Dom's dick jumped of its own accord. He moaned before he could stop himself. "I thought I might turn in early. I took off my dress when I got in, and I haven't gotten into my pajamas yet."

"What're you in?" he asked hoarsely.

"My bra and panties, and those silk stockings you know I love."

"With the garters?"

"Mm-hmm. They're so vintage."

Dom closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he conjured the image in his head. "Black?" he asked.

"Black and lacy."

"Fuck…," he breathed before clearing his throat. "Don't you feel a little exposed, talking on the phone and rolling around in your intimates, luv?"

"Mmm… a little," she mewed. "I've got the French doors open leading out to the balcony, too. I'm pretty high up, and the breeze makes the curtains billow, like something out of old time Hollywood. I wonder if there's anyone in the hotel across the street, looking through binoculars, watching me talk to you…"

If Dom had been born with buttons, Emilie would have her fingers on three of them right now. One would be voyeurism. Another would be exhibitionism. And a third would be silk stockings. There was something about the way they came to a stop at the top of the thigh, leaving a creamy expanse of exposed skin that stretched up to the hip. Dom liked skimming his fingers around the top of Emilie's garters before walking his fingers up her inner thigh to brush over the hot juncture of her legs. It made her moan and shiver, which made his body tighten like a guitar string. There was something about fucking a woman in stockings, as if the urge to fuck was just so strong it wasted too much time to strip completely. He'd bite off her bra and tear off her panties, but the garters and stockings stayed on.

"Why don't you give them a show, then," he murmured, lost in his head, watching her sprawled out on her queen-sized hotel bed.

"That wouldn't make you jealous?"

"Insanely," he growled, and meant it. Dammit, _he_ wanted to be a guy in a room across the street, watching her through a camera with a telescopic lens. "Do it."

A coy giggle. She was going to drive him over the edge. "What do you want me to do, Dominic?" she asked sweetly.

Right. It would help if he had some plan of attack. Unfortunately his brain was a seething mass of unrestrained hormones, which wasn't helping him think very clearly. What would he do if he was there?

"Take your bra off," he heard himself say, and was pleased with how much authority he managed to pack into the sentence, considering he hadn't even realized he was going to say it.

"Yes, Dom," Emilie purred. He heard a few seconds of muffled movement on the other end of the phone, then a soft moan. "Ooooh… That feels _much_ better. Mmmm…"

"What're you doing?" he asked, genuinely curious, as well as annoyed that he couldn't picture her actions in his head without some kind of narration.

"The air's cool, especially with the door open," she explained. "My nipples are rock hard." She gasped a little. "Ohhh… That felt good…"

"What?"

"I was just pinching myself a little, imagining it was you. You know I love your fingers, Dom. Your long, limber fingers."

Yes she did. Boy did she ever. "Keep pretending," he told her huskily, imagining her soft white hands running over the pebbled flesh of her nipples. "Pretend I'm squeezing your breasts… Kneading them…" His fingers twitched in lascivious sympathy, imagining the soft swells of her milky white breasts cupped in the palm of his hand.

"Ohhh…," Emilie moaned softly on the other end of the line. "Yes, Dom…"

"Harder. Squeeze harder." His fingers tightened, clutching at the cushion beneath him. "I'm pressing my fingers into your skin. I'm tweaking your nipple between my knuckles because I know you like it when I play with you like that."

"Ohhhhh…!" The moan was louder this time. He could see her arching away from the mattress, feet planted, knees trembling.

"Now I'm sliding my hand down your body, Emilie," he crooned, his fingers mimicking the action along the seam of his couch cushion. "Do you feel it?"

"I do, Dom… Your fingers are hot. They tickle."

"I like tickling you. It makes you squirm and giggle and you start to blush."

"Mmm… " A smoky laugh echoed through the connection. "I like the _way_ you tickle, Dominic." A contented sigh. "What are you going to do to me next?"

"I'm going to take your panties off," he murmured, swirling his index finger in a circle on the floor beside the couch. "And I'm going to throw them out the window."

"Really?" She sounded giddy on the other end of the line.

"Oh yes. You won't be needing them anyway, and it'll give some poor blighter walking down the street a thrill to get your panties on his head." He pressed back into the cushions. "Take them off. Nice and slow."

More muffled movement on the other end of the line. Dom grinned, imagining Emilie slowly sliding her black lace panties down her legs. Completely out of instinct he started humming "The Stripper," and Emilie laughed in response. "You're a lunatic, Dominic," she giggled.

"Fuck, I love how you say that," he moaned.

"Lunatic?"

"Dominic."

"Do you really?" Another giggle, then a breathy whisper, " _Dominic…_ "

He shifted his hips, trying to ignore his painful erection. "Bad girl," he muttered breathlessly. "That means you get to throw your bra out the window, too."

"Yes, Dominic."

Why had he admitted that to her? Fuck, fuck, fuck. His cock was straining against his zipper, and picturing her round ass above a pair of sheer black stockings, topped by the world's most perfect set of breasts, while a beautiful pair of rosebud lips said "Dominic" was _not helping_. "Walk slow," he growled hungrily. "I want to watch you sashay."

"Should I wear my heels?"

Oh, dammit! His hips jerked reflexively. "Shit yes," he gasped, his hand clutching the couch cushion again as he tried to anchor himself before he floated away on a cloud of euphoria.

He heard the soft rustle of skin on fabric as she slid off the bed. "I'm walking now, Dominic," she purred. "I can't get too close to the window or someone might see me."

"Figure something out," he said. "You're resourceful."

A chuckle. "Yes I am," she agreed. Then, just because she was cruel, she started to sing "Dominique" to fill the silence.

"Is this really the time or place for the Singing Nun, Em?" he protested, but only weakly, because if hearing her say his name was bad enough, having her sing it was almost more than he could handle.

"I'm tossing my underwear out the window, Dom. I'd say anything goes. Speaking of which… oops!" A giggle. "Those were my panties. And oops again!" He heard something that might have been clothes flapping on a line. "There goes my bra." A heavy, over-dramatic sigh. "Whatever am I to do, standing here silhouetted in the moonlight against gauzy curtains, almost entirely naked except for my shoes and stockings, and horny as a rhino?"

"The first thing you can do is spank yourself for being a tease," Dom said through gritted teeth, then groaned when he heard a _SLAP!_ of flesh on flesh through the line. He'd been half-joking; he was glad she'd listened to the OTHER half. "Now get back on the bed. I want to fuck you senseless."

He heard her laugh, then a few seconds later the sound of her body rubbing on fabric came over the connection again. "Okay. I'm on the bed again, Dom. Where do you want me?"

"Head on the pillow," he said, sketching her out in his head. "Knees up, legs spread. Wide, Emilie, because I know you can. Ballet has its benefits."

"Mmmm, I've shown you a few, haven't I?" she purred. A beat, then a soft moan. "Ohhh…"

"What?" he asked, stumbling over his tongue.

"Are you seeing me?" she moaned in response. "Because it's like your eyes are on me, Dom. I can feel you. Can you feel me?"

"Every inch," he murmured in answer, raising his hand to rub absently at his stomach. "Touch yourself. I want to watch you touch yourself before I touch you."

Dom heard her suck in a sharp exhalation of breath. "Ooooh… Ohhhh… Yes… Yeeessss…" There was a high, keening note to her voice that made his body tingle. He felt his hips start to rock in rhythm with her heavy breathing, but didn't try to fight the urge. "Oh… Oh yes… Dom… YES…!"

"I want to be in you now," he panted, and meant it. What had he been thinking, initiating this? There was no way he was going to live through the night without her bringing him to completion. His own hand just wasn't the same. He needed someone else's heat. "Let me in, Emilie. Make your fingers into me."

"OHHH!" she exclaimed, and his body jerked in response. "YES, Dom! Ohhhhh, yeeeah…! Gah, Dom, you make me feel so tight…! Ooooh…"

The imagination was a wonderful thing. Like a glove, he could almost feel her heat wrapping around his straining cock. Utterly forgoing propriety in deference to prurience, he started pumping his hips in earnest, imagining her soft, nimble body spread-eagled beneath him. He could see her angelic face creasing with pleasure as he pushed into her again…and again… and again… Chewing her lower lip like it was gum, scrubbing her hair against the pillow until it was a messy halo of spun gold. The moonlight would shine on the thin sheen of sweat that covered her body, making her slippery and turning the cool air between them into a humid nest of pheromones.

"Dominic!" she called through the phone, breaking him out of his trance. "Pleeeeease… Oh pleeeeease… Yes! YES! I'm there, oh fuck, I'm THERE… YES! YES! YESSSS!"

With a muffled groan Dom thrust up with his pelvis, feeling his cock jump as he came into his jeans. A piece of his brain realized it would be a mess to clean up, let alone trying to explain to Billy why he had to change his clothes after a phone call. But the other three-quarters of his brain couldn't care less, because he felt EXCELLENT.

Emilie was panting like she'd just won the 100M dash. Dom grinned lazily as he listened to her. "Did I ever mention that it's fucking fantastic when you come?" he praised groggily. "For such a little thing you pack a whollop."

Emilie laughed breathlessly on the other end of the line. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said breathily, and he could see the dreamy smile on her face.

"It was meant as one."

"You're not too bad yourself."

"Hobbits are natural born sex machines. Comes of smoking so much weed. Lowers all the inhibitions."

Emilie giggled. "Mmm… I don't know about hobbits," she said, sounding as though she were stretching. "But Dominic Monaghans are _wonderful_ in bed."

"Don't forget in kitchens, and hot tubs, and Mercedes-Benzes…"

This time she gave him a full-fledged laugh. "Pompous," she teased.

"Truthful," he argued. "I cannot tell a lie, and if I do, may I be struck down in the height of my virility by a severe case of gout."

Emilie's grin was obvious in her voice. "Then do you love me?"

"You know I do," he answered plainly.

"Say it."

"I love you."

"Oooh, so suave." He heard the sound of lips smacking on the other end of the line. "That was a kiss," she clarified. "Because I love you, too. Now go change your clothes."

It was Dom's turn to laugh. "What makes you think I need to do that?" he asked.

"Because I'm so sated, I feel like my bones are going to melt, and you must be pretty close to that, too, or you'd be begging me for more." She giggled.

Dom's eyes twinkled. "You know me too well, Em."

"This was nothing. If you think this was good, Dominic, just wait until I see you next week while you're up here for ORC." She lowered her voice to a whisper and cooed, "I'll wear the red stockings, if you promise to wear eyeliner."

"Just call me Ziggy Stardust," he growled hungrily.

"Then sweet dreams, Ziggy," she purred.

"Sleep sweet, Em," he murmured in reply.

She sent another kiss to him through the line, then there was a soft click and the familiar hum of a dial tone.

With a sigh Dom pressed the button to shut off the cordless phone, then lay there for a good thirty seconds, trying to regain feeling in his extremities. Was it next week yet? Picturing Emilie in her devil-red stockings was almost enough to push him over the edge again. He could almost feel her warm body wrapping around him again, as he felt fresh stirrings in his loins.

Hang on…

He wasn't imagining this.

With a start, his eyes flew open.

"Having fun, are we?" Billy asked from his position leaning over the back of the couch. He had one eyebrow raised and one arm resting across the back of the couch. The other hand was in Dom's lap.

Squeezing.

"I figured you needed a hand," the Scot said with a nefarious wink. "Emilie?" Dom managed a nod, then moaned as Billy gave him a particularly firm squeeze. "You're a bad host, Dom. You didn't even say hi to the lovely girl for me! Well, you'll just have to make it up to me in California next week, eh? Maybe you, me and her can have a little get together, what do you say? I think Emilie would be up for that, don't you? She sounded like the adventurous type, from what I overheard."

Billy pulled his hand away, and Dom gasped at the loss of pressure. "You might want to go change your clothes, Dom," he said helpfully. "You've got spaghetti sauce on your shirt."

Then, whistling a jaunty rendition of Bon Jovi's "Lay Your Hands on Me," he turned away and wandered back into the kitchen.

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
